


One Bitchin' Dress

by Sholio



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Episode Tag, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: SEASON TWO SPOILERS!! Jane deserves the world. This little part of it, at least, he can give her.





	One Bitchin' Dress

"Is it here?" were the first words that greeted Hopper as he stepped through the door into the cabin. Eleven -- Jane -- had popped up over the back of the chair in front of the TV, eyes bright and excited in the nests of dark mascara that she seemed to like these days.

"Hey now. It's been a long day." He threw a handful of mail onto the table, not missing how she craned her head to follow the movement, peering at the bills and junk mail as if any of them might hold something fascinating. "Let me settle in first."

He could see by the litter of candy wrappers on the table that the kids had been here. Having them biking out to the cabin all the time still didn't sit well with him -- but hell. Nobody in a town like this paid attention to what kids did all day. And it kept Jane happy. 

At least, he hoped she was happy. She had friends, who could come over whenever they managed to arrange a mutual circle of "I'm over at so&so's house" or "I'm with Steve" to defray parental concerns. They'd arranged a "safe area" in the backyard so she could spend as much time as she wanted outside, as long as she didn't go outside the limits of the region he'd marked with ribbons of surveyor's tape in the trees. She was planning for a little garden behind the cabin come spring, which had been her idea, planted with seeds she was picking out from catalogues that he'd brought her.

It was the best he could do for now. Hopefully next year she could have more. Go to school like a normal kid. But for now ...

For now, he kept her safe. It was all he could do.

"You do your homework?" he asked, taking a TV dinner out of the freezer. He'd been trying to give her a little more structure with the new stuff she was learning, try not to let her spend all day watching TV. He didn't know much about that home-schooling some people were into, hippies and weirdos mostly, but he'd bought her some books on history and geography and math, and told the other kids to bring their homework when they came over, so she could see what they were learning and maybe figure out how to catch up enough to join them in the fall. (He hoped.)

Jane draped herself pitifully across the back of the chair. "Yes," she said. "Mostly. Some."

Hopper gave her a narrow-eyed look as he peeled back the foil and stuck the meal into the microwave. "Some?"

"Most?" came her reply, along with a wide-eyed look that he was completely, one hundred percent immune to.

"You eat anything today besides waffles?"

Her eyes darted guiltily sideways at the table with its candy wrappers.

"Or Snickers bars."

"Snickers really satisfies you," she said hopefully.

He snorted and opened the freezer door again. "You want pot pie or meatloaf."

"Meatloaf, uggghhh," she moaned, slithering slowly down the chair until only the top of her head was visible.

"Pot pie it is. You eat all of this," he said, taking the first TV dinner out of the microwave and sticking the next in, "and I might have something for you in the truck."

Her head popped up again, eyes practically glowing. She turned to look toward the door --

"No psychic shi -- stuff 'til after dinner. And no presents. Food first, presents later."

She was in her seat at the table before he'd finished speaking. "Presents. Is it the dress?" she asked. "Is it?"

"It's a present. You won't know 'til you open it." He nodded to the kitchen drawer. "Set the table."

The drawer began to nudge itself open.

"No psychic stuff 'til after dinner. I said that, didn't I?"

Jane rolled her eyes, but she got up and got the silverware out like a normal person. Thank God. They'd had a fun little battle of wills over _that_ for awhile. 

"Dress?" she asked hopefully.

"Sit."

She'd had the picture from the Sears catalogue taped up on the wall of her room ever since she had picked out her dress for the Snow Ball. Hopper just hoped to God that they'd gotten the size right. He'd read the sizing chart and sent her off into the bedroom with a tape measure, but that was about the best he could do. He wasn't sure what he'd do if it was wrong. Maybe have Joyce help him alter it; that was all he could think of. What the hell did he know about teenage girls and dress sizes? Nothing!

"If I eat half of it ...?" Jane wheedled as he put the TV dinner in front of her, casting a desperate, longing look at the door.

"All of it."

"I'm not hungry."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Mike's."

"Uh-huh." He pointed with his fork. "Dig in."

He got himself a beer from the fridge, and sat back down to find her poking through his -- through their mail. At least she was using her fingers instead of her brain.

"Oooh." She'd discovered another seed catalogue. How many of the goddamn things had she sent off for?

"Dinner," he told her. She resentfully stuck her fork into the pot pie.

"Christmas," she said around a mouthful.

Well, that was a non sequitur. "Yeah?"

"Decorating?"

Uh. Hmm. They probably should. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd --

Well. No. He could remember very well the last tree he'd helped put up, back when Sara was still ...

Back when Sara.

Since then, his Christmases had been marked by the holiday potlucks at the station, and nothing else. A few cards from distant, elderly relatives to vary the monotony of bills and grocery-store mailouts; that was about it.

"I saw on TV," Jane began.

"You know real life isn't like TV, right?"

"Yes," she said, scowling at him in that teenager-ish "you are too stupid to live" kind of way she'd begun to pick up lately. He blamed peer pressure, even if she only had five peers.

Now she'd clammed up. "Go on," he said, forking up reconstituted meatloaf. "Tell me about it."

"I saw a house," she said, and paused. 

"Yeah?"

"There was a Christmas tree."

And so on. By the time they were done eating, he'd coaxed out of her an entire plan for decorating the cabin from top to bottom, which there was _no way_ he was ever going to be able to pull off ..

But, goddammit. Kid wanted a Christmas. They could cut a tree in the woods; she'd probably like that. He could pick up decorations at Melvald's. See if Joyce threw out all those Christmas lights she had around during her crazy phase. Come to think of it, he'd seen a few wads in the shed; maybe she'd lend them to him.

"You ever have a Christmas stocking, kid?" he asked.

"What's that?"

Jesus Christ. Those fucking soulless _assholes._

"Never mind," he mumbled into his meatloaf. "It's a ... thing. I'll show you. Later."

He was damn well stuffing that stocking with everything he could lay his hands on. Would Eggos fit in a Christmas stocking?

Jane pushed her tray away. "I finished!"

So she had. Scarfed it all down in spite of her claims about not having an appetite. He drained his beer and stood up. "Ready to see your present now?"

"Yes!"

She ran ahead of him down the path to the place in the woods, off the road, where he'd parked the Blazer. That path was getting alarmingly well traveled, what with the kids' bikes coming and going. He might need to show them a different route to the cabin.

Or maybe not. If everything went well, he and Jane wouldn't even have to hide, come spring.

She wrenched the door of the Blazer open and snatched a plain brown box from the passenger seat. She began tearing it open right there, shedding pieces of cardboard on the forest floor.

"Hey now --" he began, but stopped as she ripped it open and the dress unfolded in her hands. It was exactly the one she'd picked out, the right color and everything.

"Oh," she breathed, holding it in her hands, and the thought came to him that this was probably the first time she'd ever got to pick out what she wore. He'd given her all her clothes when he first brought her to the cabin. And before that ... well ...

Jesus Lord God. Poor kid.

She clutched it to her chest and looked up at him. He'd never really understood what "shining eyes" meant, until now.

"You're gonna run that right back up to the cabin and try it on, right? If we need to make alterations --" God, he hoped Joyce was free. "-- we've only got a couple of days to do it."

"Yes," she breathed, and took a deep breath, and let it out. "Thank you."

For some reason it pissed him off that she wanted to thank him for something that simple. That ordinary. She deserved nice things. She deserved to pick the color and style that she wanted. She deserved to ... well ... to know that Jane Hopper could have the world, because she deserved it, because any kid of his was gonna get it.

"Hell," he said, "you oughta have one pretty dress."

"It's not _pretty,"_ she said, frowning at him, shifting mercurially from childish adoration to teenage annoyance. "It's _bitchin'."_


End file.
